


fail like a mortal, flail like a god

by baliset



Category: Quoria (Web Serial)
Genre: AU, Gen, Implied Torture, This spoils the whole ending of Chapter 1 so proceed with caution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baliset/pseuds/baliset
Summary: Colton passes out in the hospital, and wakes up the previous morning.





	fail like a mortal, flail like a god

_“What have you got there?” Mabre asked, snapping Colton back to reality. She was staring at the marble. Reilley raised his eyebrows at Colton as if asking him if he’d really gone and exposed what he’d snuck in._

_Colton paused. Then, concussed and panicked, he acted on the first idea that came to his mind. He quickly brought his hand to his mouth and let the marble drop inside, swallowing it like a pill._

_The room went silent, and then burst into an uproar all at once. Mabre was yelling, nurses came running, and even Reilley looked stunned. All the noise made Colton’s head hurt even worse, and he allowed himself to do the only thing that would allow him to escape the situation._

_He passed right back out._

 

* * *

 

Colton woke up, his ears ringing like his brain was a bell someone had struck between them. Something else was ringing, too. A phone? His hospital room hadn’t had a phone on the bedside table, had it? He couldn’t remember seeing one, but he’d been reasonably occupied with more important things. He rolled onto his side and curled into himself, wincing in preemptive expectation of his injuries flaring up - but they didn’t.

Huh. Maybe the doctors had put him on the good drugs. The _really_ good drugs. Colton couldn’t even feel the IV in his arm, even though he knew it was there.

The ringing continued. Colton sat up in bed, blearily opening his eyes to the sight of daylight streaming in between the slats of the blinds of his...flat. His flat? That wasn’t right. But the ringing he’d heard was unmistakably the sound of his downstairs office phone, muffled by the ceiling and floor that sat between Colton and it. He’d heard it enough times to recognize it.

Colton stood slowly out of bed, and checked himself over in the mirror. No injuries, not so much as a puncture mark from where the IV needle had gone into his arm. Had someone healed him magically and carried him home in his sleep? What was going _on_? He probed his scalp with his fingers, and couldn’t even find a bruise to press against.

The downstairs phone was still ringing. Colton grabbed a pair of pants from the floor and tugged them on, one leg at a time, as he made his way down the stairs. He didn’t bother with a shirt - he was recovering from an attempted murder, he could afford to blow off whoever was calling him. Especially if it was the Watch looking for another statement.

He tossed himself into his office chair, and picked up the phone, cradling it between his ear and shoulder.

“McKinley Detective Agency, what can I do for you?”

“Finally,” Jude said over the line, in a perfect monotone. “I was starting to think you were dead.”

Deja vu tugged at Colton’s brain.

“This is Jude, by the way,” she added.

“I know,” Colton assured her. “I’m okay. I was in the hospital -”

“What?”

Wait. Had Jude not known that he’d been in the hospital? Did _Madeline_ know? Colton frowned.

“I had a head injury, but I think I’m fine now,” he said, carefully. “Reilley saved me - I was kidnapped to this old abandoned hotel in the old part of town -”

“Wait,” Jude said. “All this happened after you left me and Madeline last night?”

Colton froze, and nearly dropped the phone.

“Jude,” he said, “what, uh. What day do you think it is?”

“What day do I _think_ it is?” she asked. “Are you okay? Did you get a concussion or something running from the cops?”

Colton felt suddenly, rapidly seasick, his stomach churning even though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He’d already had this conversation with Jude. It was the morning after he’d met her at the fight club, and had to run from the Watch. The morning of the day Sasha was going to kidnap him. Was he still in his hospital bed, dreaming this? Or had eating the stone from Madeline’s necklace sent him back here, to try and fix things? That seemed beyond the bounds of magic, but what did Colton even know about magic?

“I’m fine,” he choked out, sounding exactly the opposite of fine, even to his own ears. “Sorry.”

“You sure?” Jude asked, because of course she did.

“Yeah,” he said. “Is Madeline with you?”

“She’s still upstairs,” Jude said, confirming what Colton already knew. “I’m calling from my dormitory. The other girls are going to be mad at me for hogging the phone all morning.”

“Okay, great,” Colton said, still feeling sick. Hospital painkillers making him feel that way even in his sleep? The magic marble he’d eaten? Hard to say. “Listen, I’m a detective, and I’m helping Madeline out with an important case.”

“That’s why -”

“That’s why I was at the bar, yeah. I’m close to solving it,” he went on, talking right over Jude. Whatever this was, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being given a second chance here, a chance to do this case over. Only this time, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who the culprit was. “Can you keep Madeline with you? I don’t think she’s safe until the person who did this is in custody.”

 _Or dead,_ he thought grimly. The Watch couldn’t keep Sasha in custody for long, considering his royal status. As much as Colton hated to admit it, the best endgame here was Sasha dying, and no one getting hurt. But he could try a nonviolent solution -

A plan crystalized in his mind, suddenly. If it was this early in the day, maybe he could tip off the Watch, and Sasha would be caught in the act of vandalizing Madeline’s office. And if Sasha was in custody, or being questioned, that gave Colton a window of time in which he could find out where Sasha was staying, and search his things for evidence. Maybe this time he’d ask Reilley for help, or even Kaleb, or Mabre. Or he’d just bring a weapon, and hope for the best.

Jude was saying something, but Colton had long since tuned her out, assuming it was the rest of the conversation they’d already had. Well, from his point of view they’d already had it. From Jude’s...thinking about this too much made his head hurt.

“I can’t stay on the phone all day,” she said, just as Colton tuned back in. “The cafeteria’s about to open for lunch, and -”

“Go, go,” Colton said, guiltily remembering that he was about to be late for his own lunch with Reilley. Even on a do-over, he couldn’t get that one right. Unfortunately, he was going to be even later with that call he had to put in to the Watch.

“Sure,” Jude said. “Good luck with the case.”

The phone line clicked as she hung up. Colton gave himself a second to breathe, then dialed the number to the local Watch House with a sweaty hand, hoping against hope that he would get literally anyone other than Detective Mabre Darling on the phone. It rang exactly twice before someone picked him up.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Colton said, then kept talking without so much as taking a breath. “I’m a concerned citizen, and I heard some teenagers planning on breaking into a shop on my street. Can I give you the address?”

 

* * *

 

 In the do-over, Colton didn’t bother with a shower. He threw a shirt on and flew out the door, pacing himself at least a little bit as he sprinted to the Lion’s Head. His socks were still mismatched, but he had remembered to put his suspenders on the right way around this time, which he felt ought to earn him points in someone’s book.

Reilley was sitting exactly where Colton had knew he’d find him, and looked Colton over as he slid into the seat opposite his.

“Sorry,” Colton said, trying to catch his breath. He took the glass of soda Reilley had very kindly ordered for him, and gulped about half of it down, not even minding that the ice had melted and made it watery.

“I had to make some calls,” he finished, once he came up for air.

“I assumed it was important,” Reilley said, with an even smile.

Colton found himself examining Reilley’s face more discerningly than he had the last time this lunch date (or whatever it was) had happened. How had Reilley known he was in trouble, and come to save him from Sasha? Had it been something about this conversation that had tipped Reilley off, or had Reilley already been keeping an eye on him and his case, watching from a distance to make sure Colton didn’t trip into a mess he couldn’t clean up on his own? There was nothing in Reilley’s polite, obviously practiced expression to suggest a sense of protectiveness, or even possessiveness. So what had been the tipping point that - oh, Reilley’s lips were moving now. He was saying something.

“ - hectic evening, if I recall,” he finished, then cocked his head about an inch, studying Colton back with surprisingly discerning eyes. “And a lot on your mind, apparently. Where did you go just then, my dear detective?”

Colton took another gulp of his soda. “I was just...thinking.”

“Well, penny for your thoughts, then.”

Colton was saved from answering by the sudden appearance of the waitress, and staved off an expression of relief as he and Reilley ordered. As soon as the waitress was gone, though, Reilley’s gaze was back on him, as steady and bright as the ceiling light in an interrogation room.

“I was thinking - you asked me out last night,” Colton said - a statement, not a fact.

“I did,” Reilley confirmed, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. It was distractingly handsome. “I must admit, I’m glad to see you here in one piece. I was somewhat concerned.”

“You suspect Sasha,” Colton said bluntly. He remembered dancing around the question the first time he’d had this conversation with Reilley, of blowing off the idea that Sasha could be dangerous. It didn’t seem like such a laughable idea anymore.

Reilley raised his eyebrows, took a sip of his water, and said nothing.

“You _do_ ,” Colton insisted.

“If I suspected a member of the royal family of a crime, I certainly wouldn’t be saying as much in a public restaurant,” Reilley said evenly. “There are things like diplomacy to consider.”

“And diplomatic immunity,” Colton said, well aware of how bitter he sounded. Maybe Sasha would be exonerated no matter _what_ he did, but he still had to _try_.

“And the lengths the royal family of Citarik is willing to go to cover up any wrongdoing,” Reilley said agreeably. “If you think that you know who the culprit in this matter is, my dear detective, I suggest keeping it firmly between yourself and your client. Nothing good ever came of causing a diplomatic incident.”

It was almost funny to hear those words come out of the mouth of the man who’d killed Sasha - but Reilley hadn’t killed Sasha _yet_ , Colton reminded himself. And maybe now he never would. Maybe if the Watch got to Madeline’s shop in time to catch Sasha vandalizing it…

“You’re getting that look again,” Reilley said pointedly.

Colton startled. “What look?”

“Like you’re planning something.” Reilley took another sip of his water. "You are, aren't you?"

“I might be,” Colton said, slowly. “Sasha came to you last night to have his clothes tailored, right?”

“That’s right,” Reilley said.

The waitress returned with their food, just then, and both men refrained from saying anything until she had once again vanished from earshot. Colton picked at the chips side of his fish and chips for a moment before he got the nerve to ask what he’d wanted to, before.

“Did he mention where he was staying, while he’s in town?”

Reilley laughed. “This is quite a plan you're hatching, my dear.”

“Yeah,” Colton said. “And before you try to talk me out of it -”

“I won’t,” Reilley said, daintily lifting his soup spoon to his mouth between sentences. “I can’t stop you from doing anything foolhardy if your mind is set on it. And as the former employee of an ambassador, I might happen to know where the royal family of Citarik has homes in Quoria.”

Colton opened his mouth to say something - thank Reilley, probably - but Reilley held up a hand.

“I’ll give you the address, dear detective, but under one condition. You must promise to be careful. For my sake more than your own.”

“I’ll be the most careful man this side of the river,” Colton promised for the second time in two days, sure that this time it would be true.

 

* * *

 

 The switchblade in his pocket felt heavy against his hip, and Colton’s hands were already sweaty at the prospect of having to use it. In all his years as a con artist, he’d never had to stab anyone, much less kill them. But there was always the chance that someone, maybe Kaleb, would discover him in the manor, going through Sasha’s things, and would try to pick a fight before actually asking him what he was doing there.

Although...Kaleb ought to be on the southern shore of the river right now, or even fighting the Watch over Sasha’s arrest. Or maybe helping the Watch come up with evidence against Sasha? Colton was unclear as to where Kaleb might have landed in the conflict if Sasha had still been alive, the first time around. Hopefully he’d never find out.

Huh. Speaking of the Watch...Colton glanced over his shoulder as he crossed the street, then the other one, just to be sure. He didn’t have the feeling that he was being watched, like he had during his conversation with Kaleb near the river. No one was following him, in this timeline. Maybe the Watch was busy with Sasha and the vandalism charges, and Oliver had gotten pulled off of tailing him. That was good, considering the amount of breaking and entering Colton was about to do.

The manor Kaleb and Sasha were staying in - where Kaleb supposedly stayed full time, and where Sasha was staying while visiting Quoria - was near the embassy, but not visible from it, shielded on all sides by a black iron fence, and topiaries that looked expensively maintained. Colton scaled the fence clumsily, but made it over within a matter of moments, only to drop directly down onto a topiary shaped like...well, he thought it was a dog, but it was hard to tell from above. He tumbled onto the lawn, spitting out a mouthful of shrubbery and feeling bruised both in body and in dignity.

Still. He had a mission. Colton picked himself up off the ground, dusted off some of the worse grass stains, and resolutely made his way across the lawn towards the manor, casing it as he drew closer. He’d never been an expert on burglary, but he’d known enough burglars in his time to know roughly how this was supposed to go. The trellis on the east side of the manor looked sturdy enough to support his weight as he climbed it, and from there he would jimmy the window lock open, and he’d be inside. Searching the place to find Sasha’s room would probably be the only hard part.

Colton approached the trellis and hopped up as best as he could, grabbing handfuls of strong wood and decorative ivy to pull himself farther up towards the second-story window. It was markedly easier than climbing the fence had been, and though his arms were newly sore, he made short work of it. He’d been wrong about the hard part - the hardest part was actually keeping himself up with one hand while jimmying the window open with a piece of wire held in the other. His legs started to shake in short order, and he’d begun to make peace with the idea of falling and breaking his back by the time the window popped open.

Colton practically dove through, only thinking about the noise he’d made when he was finished making it. He laid on the floor in the dark for a long moment, silent, catching his breath while he waited to see if someone would come running.

No one came. Carefully, Colton sat up and pulled the window shut, keeping it unlatched in case he needed a means of hasty escape.

The room he’d fallen into looked generally unused, he found, as his eyes adjusted to the dark. It was a guest bedroom, if he’d had to guess, with not much else besides a bed and a closet. The door was closed, but the hall light shone out from the crack underneath of it. Colton pushed it, delicately, and froze as it swung open halfway.

The carpet in the hallway was plush and white, and probably very expensive, but Colton barely processed any of that. The other details of the manor seemed to have been sucked away from his vision, his eyes reserved only for the trail of blood droplets someone had left on the floor.

 _This shouldn’t be happening_ , he told himself, trying to ignore the seasick feeling that had returned to his stomach. _No one should be here. The Watch has Sasha, and Kaleb’s off somewhere else. Maybe it’s old blood._

But the blood was too fresh for that, too red, practically searing itself into Colton’s eyes. And he could hear voices coming from one of the rooms down the hall. In spite of himself, he felt drawn to them. He knew the right move here was to run away, to regroup, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Sasha was going to hurt someone else, someone instead of him, and it was his fault. He had to play Reilley in this situation, had to save...whoever it was in that room. Even if it meant killing Sasha.

“- not going to tell me, are you? You’re very stubborn,” a sweet voice within the room, unmistakably Sasha’s, was saying, as Colton drew nearer.

Colton shrank back instinctively from the sound, but forced himself to keep going, taking a deep breath and pressing himself to the wall just outside the door. It was cracked open slightly, and he craned his neck to try and see while still staying out of sight. It was hard. He could see someone moving around with their back to the door - probably Sasha - and someone else...sitting in a chair? Maybe tied to a chair.

“If you just tell me who gave you the tip, I’ll let you go,” Sasha said, and the pieces fell into place for Colton, who suddenly wanted to be sick even more than he had before.

Sasha had a member of the Watch in there. He was torturing a member of the Watch, trying to find out who had tipped them off about him vandalizing Madeline’s shop. Because Colton had spoken too lightly of it on the phone, made it out to be a group of teenagers that the Watch only needed to waste one officer on, to scare them off. Sasha had probably knocked them out like he’d done to Colton, or even lured them back here with a conversation, and then…

“I won’t tell you,” another voice said from inside the room. Even as hoarse and tired as it was, Colton recognized it as Oliver Goodkind’s.

“I guess you wouldn’t mind losing your other ear, then, Constable,” Sasha said, his voice still perfectly saccharine.

“Hey,” a third voice said - and it took Colton another moment to realize that the voice had come out of his own mouth. He threw the door open, his other hand going to the switchblade in his pocket almost instinctively.

“Let him go,” he said, gesturing to Oliver with the blade.

“Colton -” Oliver said, warningly. His eyes were glassy, his hair slicked back with sweat, and one side of his face was practically painted with blood. Colton was sure there was an empty crater where one of his ears had been, but didn’t look too closely.

“Ah, detective,” Sasha said, like Colton was an expected houseguest he was welcoming inside. “I suspected it might have been you who tipped off the Watch. But I also thought you were stupid enough to believe Kaleb was the culprit. I shouldn’t have underestimated you!”

“You really shouldn’t have,” Colton said, and lunged for Sasha.

He was stopped short by a loud bang, and an impact that threw him backwards towards the door. His chest hurt horribly, unrelentingly, like someone was stepping on it and grinding their heel against his ribs. Colton raised a hand to it, and felt something warm and wet spreading across his shirt. Everything felt slower again, like moving through taffy. Even lowering his eyes to look at the blood on his hands was a fight against his own body. He raised them again, towards Sasha, and barely had time to process the pearl-handled revolver in the other man’s hands before everything went dark.

 

* * *

 

A splash of sun across his face woke Colton, and he launched out of bed gasping, holding a hand to his chest with the expectation of finding a wound or a bandage. Instead, he felt only his own pulse, steady, under the skin.

He was in his flat. Somewhere, a phone was ringing.

“Oh, no,” he said, aloud.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic comes from Sisyphus by Andrew Bird! Thanks to Cal for letting me edit their serial and also make their characters suffer for my amusement. This is a Chapter One for now, I'll probably write more when the Manic Fic Urge overcomes me again. Also the first bit and some of the dialogue in the "repeated" scenes is either directly from Quoria, or tweaked slightly!


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